


Searching

by AngelPines



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Boris is a cinnamon roll, Curious Reader, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Monster Bendy, Protective Henry, Sammy's a creep, Too many questions, alice isn't any better, because they're a living ink blob, ink monster reader, neither does henry, not enough answers, reader has no gender, searcher doesn't know better, searcher-reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-08 09:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13455516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelPines/pseuds/AngelPines
Summary: Searching. You were searching. Always searching. For... what though? What were you looking for? And what was with that man who entered the building? Was he searching for something too?





	1. Questioning

It was... dark.

Very dark.

And cold too. What was that exactly? Cold. You knew it was a... feeling, right? A sensation? You couldn't quite remember. 

In fact, you couldn't remember anything. Well, at least the basic essentials you knew. Like, what certain objects were named, and other simple things. One of those things that you didn't know was where you were. Dark and cold. That's all you had to go off of right now.  _Maybe... can I see if I tried moving?_ Shifting around, you found yourself pushing up on a flat surface, and gasped for air.

Wait. Could you breathe? Hmmm. N-no, you couldn't. It just felt nice to be out of the dark-you looked down-puddle. Yeah, yeah. Puddle. That's what you were inside. Not having all of that excess ink in your mouth helped a lot. Then again, you didn't really have lungs to begin with. Or... a throat, or any other organs. Shifting around in your spot on the floor, you listened to the ink swirling around inside you. Around you. That's what you were. Ink. A gooey, black... thing?

What were you exactly? Reaching a hand up, you felt your 'face'. No determinable features. You had a mouth, but what purpose did it serve? No eyes either. Yet... you could see. It was dark, and everything was like through a thick film, but you could see around you. There was a sign behind you, but you weren't sure what it read. You couldn't read. There was no need to know how from wherever you came from. But whatever the words spelled seemed important.  _Now what?_ You looked at your inky claws, flexing your long fingers experimentally. How does one move without legs? You were a torso with arms!

Reaching forward along the floor, you slapped the wood ahead of you, and tilted your head. The ink seemed to have a good grip, and you could reach quite far with your long appendages. Grinning, you moved your other arm, and pushed yourself away from the wall. A gooey growl bubbled through you-your weird attempt at rejoicing-and you continued to moved throughout the room. The ink didn't seem to leave a trail behind you, but continued to slide with you and your movements. _This is great! I'm mobile!_ Where to next?

A loud metallic bang echoed through the room, and your head snapped over towards the door to your right. The metal gate was rising upwards, revealing a new room behind the boards nailed across it.  _What did that?_ You inched closer, and heard thumps against the floor. Thumps? What wasn't right. You couldn't make any sound when you moved, so what sort of creature could make that noise? "Eurrgh!" You cried in surprise, seeing the lights above your head turn on. _Who's there?_

*Bang* You crawled back into the corner, hiding in the darkness as one of the boards was knocked down with a metal blade on a stick. The wood, now in pieces, scattered to rest by the sign. One by one, the other four boards were brought down, and a leg stepped into the room. Lowering yourself into the ink puddle you were creating, you watched the newcomer with interest. He, you assumed, had thinning dark brown... hair. That stuff was hair, wasn't it? A long sleeved shirt and vest and pants, except his sleeves were rolled up. It looked like he was coated in the same ink you were made of. Why was that? Was he a different ink creature? Were there others?

"I'm in the music department." His voice was low and deep, and he spoke quietly. A voice. How odd when it was compared to the guttural sounds you made. It was more pleasant, with its different pitches and how it expressed your feelings. _Do I have feelings?_ Looking around, he spotted the staircase to his right on the same wall, leading downwards. "Looks like the stairwell's flooded. If I'm going to get out of here, I'll need to find a way to drain it." Drain it? Why would he need to do that? It's ink. He can move through it, can't he? You heard another bang from above, and you watched the rest of the lights turn on in the small area I was in. It was still dark, but it was a brighter shade than it was before.

The man walked out of the stairwell, and proceeded to head up the stairs over to the right where he exited.  _Okay. I can wait._ Sinking further into the floor, you let the top of your head poke out, waiting. Watching. Until... he's back!

The man came around the corner, and before either of you knew it, a long black inky claw lashed out of him from below his feet. Three blobs, the exact same as you except slightly larger in size, rushed at him. Crawling as fast as they could to his location, they lunged at him. Did-were they trying to hurt him? Wh-why were they doing that? What did the man do to deserve that? Stumbling back in alarm, he quickly raised the weapon and brought it down on one of their heads, knocking the already unstable ink to chunks. Dashing around the floor, the still formed blobs followed. The one he had already hit, its ink parts had dissolved into the floor, as if it were never there. 

The creatures... could they see they were hurting him? Could they think? See? Anything!? The last one was struck down, and the man panted, wiping at his forehead. Immediately, an almost mocking tune began to blast from the boxes above the sign, and the metal door across from me began to rise up. "That's progress," he muttered with a wry smile. He went to head towards the new area, but paused feet from its location. Looking around, you wondered if he could tell he was being watched.

... 

He could.

The man spun around, the metal-stick object tight in his hands as he stared in my corner.  _Should I make myself known?_ It would be rude not to. Lifting yourself up, you gave a happy gurgle. Happy. That was an emotion. It meant... good things. The man held his weapon for a few more moments, before lowering it slowly. "You're not gonna attack, are you?" Shaking your head, you sent small splatters of ink onto the walls and floors. The action seemed to surprise him. "You can understand me?"

Should you not be able to? Crawling closer, but keeping low in case he did decide to attack you, you peered up at him. Curious. That's what you were. You were curious. About what you were. Where you were. And who this man was. It was safe to say, he was no ink creature. He seemed... warm. Full of... life. But weren't you life too? You were behaving like him. Thinking, acting. What set you and him apart? "Heh. A lot smaller than those other searchers."  _Searchers?_ Was that what you were?  _Hmmm..._ _well, I am looking for answers!_ Then it's settled! You're a searcher!

"Now, let's go see what's down that new hallway. Promise not to give me a sneak attack, and you can come with, if you want." You could!? Your mouth curved into a smile, which might have looked less unnerving if you had a face like his. It still seemed to amuse him though, and he chuckled at your eagerness. "Alright then. I'm Henry, by the way." He began to head down the hall, leaving you there to process the information.

Henry. A name. Not a sense of what you were, but a sense of self-identification. Something that set you apart from the rest.  _Did I have a name?_ Maybe you did. Maybe you didn't. Perhaps Henry could give you one!  _Henry. Hehe! I like it!_ A giddy bubbling came from you, and you followed after him post-haste.  _Wait for me, Henry!_


	2. Music and Naming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Company, no matter who or what it is, is always a blessing.

Henry was certainly a quiet man. Known for only a few words. Though, why would he have to be loud? There was no one else in here to talk to other than himself. It was a habit to make it feel like he wasn't alone in the studio. But he couldn't really say he was alone anymore. There was that... monster, that had come out of the machine. There was that mysterious man carrying a Bendy cutout who vanished into thin air, and there were the searchers. Those pure ink blobs that he decided to call them, as they seemed intent on attacking him the moment they crossed his path. Searching for him, with the meaning to rip him apart. To drown him in ink.

What were the chances of finding one of those creatures that showed... human emotions? They were smaller, and not as well-built as the rest. Almost like a child. A newborn. He guessed that made sense. The searcher certainly seemed to not see him as a threat.

 _Can't keep calling them creature though,_ Henry thought, swinging open a door to the right. They weren't an it. They had feelings, and were definitely more alive than those in the entrance to the music department. He supposed a name would make sense.  _Wonder if they're still following me?_ Turning around to look back down the hall, the small searcher was dragging themselves to catch up with them. A little slow, but they seemed to be picking up the pace. Once the living ink blob reached him, a few feet from where he stood, they gave another gooey smile. "Heh. Come on."

The inside only had a simple pipe organ, which didn't really seem to do much to help him. Then again, he had to collect a bunch of random items around the studio to power up the ink machine. What did a Bendy doll and a record have to do with ink anyway? It didn't matter. "Hmmm." Humming, Henry pressed down on two keys, creating a deep drone from the pipes. The searcher watched him from behind, and he turned to look at them. "Nothi-"

"Euurrrgh!"

Henry's mouth snapped shut, and he and the searcher looked around; him obviously more anxious than they were. It sounded like someone in pain... from what though? What did the pipe organ have to do with that? "Let's go." Exiting the room and walking past them, he continued down the hall. "You know," Henry looked down at the searcher. "If you're going to keep following me, you deserve a name." He let out a small laugh, seeing their face brighten. Even without proper facial features, he could tell they were happy at the idea. "Don't suppose you have any ideas?"

Opening the next door in the hall, the searcher shook their head. The ink dollops fell onto the floor, sinking through the cracks in the wood. "I'll think of something." There wasn't anything helpful in here either. More drawing desks, and the same image of Bendy's face drawn over and over again. The only difference was each face had a different emotion labeled under it. 

"Out we go." Down to the end of the hall, he cast a glance at Sammy Lawrence's office. Two broken ink pipes had burst, spraying the cold inky liquid against the door and creating a pool in front of it.  _No way to get into there._ And there was a sheet of glass in the window frame, so he couldn't crawl through. A Bendy standee stood on the small board blocking the ink from spilling into the corridor.  The only thing that did seem to provide any sort of direction, was the tape recorder on a mount above the ink. Leaning over to press play, he heard Wally's voice flow through the old speaker. 

"Keys, huh?" Just like Wally to be worried about what would happen if Sammy found them. Looking behind him, he spotted Wally's cleaning closet on the right. "That must be what the key's for." The searcher glanced from him to the door, and crawled over to it. Their claws dragged along the wooden frame, and Henry shook his head at their actions. It was no use. They couldn't get in without the...

"Well, what do you know?" The searcher melted down into the the puddle he found them in, and with only an inch gap above the floor, slid right on through to the other side. The door knob jiggled, and the closet swung open to reveal a beaming searcher, extremely pleased with their accomplishment. "Good job."

The creature slid back out of the way, and Henry picked up the new tape recording. Sammy's voice greeted him again, and he sounded about as unhinged as he was when he found that recording in the room with the... it didn't matter.  _Banjo, drum, bass, violin._  Henry internally listed off the items a few times, nodding once he was certain he got it. It must have been for a code.  _The orchestral room. Only place to find these instruments._ He hadn't been in there for a long time. As an animator, it wasn't one of the areas he visited frequently. 

Once he and his new tag-along got to the end of the hall, he turned left and entered the room. There were still wooden chairs set up, all ready for the band members to start playing. Instruments were left abandoned along the wall and on the seats. A projector screen was set up behind their heads, and no doubt the machine to run the film was up in the balcony. "I know there's something I have to do in here. But I feel like I am missing something."

The searcher looked around, and stared up at the balcony. More specifically, the Bendy cutout. Henry followed their direction, and nodded. "The projection machine. Do you think you can get up there and turn it on for me?"

Smiling again, they sped off out of the room, and he could hear the thumping of them dragging themselves up the stairs. He heard the flick of the switch, and once a Bendy cartoon began to play above his head, he quickly hit and strummed each piece required in the code. The moment Henry's hand had left the violin, a grinding sound echoed through the room. Moving off the slightly raised floor of the stage, he saw a new door had opened up at the far end of the room. "Perfect." Not waiting for the searcher to return, he entered the small hall, and cranked the wheel on the pipe. "Should be one more after this." 

Turning around, he headed back out of the room, but stopped with a surprised gasp. A Bendy cutout, just like before when he went to turn on the flow above, had pocked its head and given him a game of peek a boo. Frowning, he quickened his pace and exited the hall. Letting his eyes wander up to where he told the searcher to go, he found the same person from before, watching him. Studying him from behind a Bendy mask. Was... was he wearing a black turtleneck, or was he... made of ink?  _I got to hurry._ The decision came quickly, and the moment he turned to make his exit out of the room, he leaped back as ten full-grown searchers rose up from the room in their ink puddles. Gripping his ax, he began to cut them down as fast as he could. Slicing down one to the left, he almost didn't notice the one on his right, lunging at him with its mouth wide open, aiming for his neck.

Seeing it out of the corner of his eye, Henry tensed at the surprise attack. Before he could swing his weapon, the monster let out a loud animalistic shriek, falling to the ground at his feet. Stumbling back, he stared at the searcher, his searcher, with their claws dug deeply into the other's back and straight through to the other side. Growling, they ripped their heads free, shredding the unstable ink being to bits. Taking in deep breathes to calm himself, he let the ax almost drop from his arms as his muscles slackened. The energy having almost been drained from him by the sneak attack, and how harsh and vicious the innocent creature turned, was enough to rock him. They sank back into their regular small height, and titled their head to the side, looking at his reaction. 

They... they attacked, just to keep him safe. To prevent him from dying. Did they even know what dying was? "Heh... heh..." panting, he knelt down, and slowly rested an open palm on their head. They were cool, just like the rest of the ink. But there was an underlining warmth to it. Warmth. Living. "Thanks." The searcher lifted a hand, and he shivered as they wrapped their fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand closer to them.  _Dark. This whole place is dark._ But this monster was also trying to find light.  _Dark and light..._

"Dusk." The searcher let go of his wrist, and he chuckled, wiping the ink off on his pants. "That's what I'm going to call you." The searcher lowered their head, seeming to think it over. "We can come up with a better name later. Once we find somewhere safe to rest." The searcher nodded, and when they brought their head up, their mouth was stretched as far as it could go. A gurgle emitted from their throat; their version of a laugh, no doubt. "Alright, Dusk." Standing up, he cast a look up at the balcony and where the man once was, and gripped his ax tightly. "Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone who checked out the first chapter so far! I figured it'd be fun to switch from Henry's to the reader's POV now and then. Not sure how that started, but it's fun to see his opinion. Midterms are coming, so the next chapter will be another whiles away. See you then!


	3. The Ink Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who was this mysterious person, and why was he taking Henry away?

Henry gave the valve a hard crank, watching it slowly turn until it came to a stop. You sat in the back of the room, keeping guard. You didn't want any more of those ink blobs hurting your... partner? Friend? What exactly would you call him?  _Dusk,_ you thought with a smile. A name was a step up from being nothing, now you had to find what sort of partnership-thing you had with him. "That ought to do it," you heard him mutter. Henry turned back to you, and nodded. 

He didn't speak much. And, well... you couldn't speak at all. You could. Sort of. But he didn't seem to understand.  _Maybe it's because I don't have lungs._ If you had proper vocal cords, then maybe that would make a difference. 

Henry trudged back up the stairs, weapon in hand as he lead the way to the blocked off room. The pipes that were once active now quietly dripped ink onto the floor, and the puddle had shrunk enough to let him walk in. The door creaked open with a simple turn of the knob, and the unusual pair entered. As Henry moved over to the pump control lever, you crawled towards a table in the corner with a radio sitting on it. Slapping your hands onto the top, you stretched your torso upwards so you could at least see the buttons.  _Hmmm... what does this do?_ You curiously pressed a button, and gave a startled cry as sound began to flow through the speakers. 

M-music. That's what it was, right? Instruments and sometimes lyrics, or the other way around. Sometimes together too. Henry chuckled, and you lowered yourself back to the floor with a tilted head. Why was he laughing? What was so funny?

He didn't answer. Instead, he went back through the door, and you watched his h... hair, atop his head move further down the hall. Hair. That's that odd, fluffy stuff on his head. Could you have hair? N... no. If the other ink blobs didn't, you probably didn't either. But you weren't like the others, so then who's to say what you could do?  _Henry! Wait for me!_ You gurgled loudly, and began to drag yourself off the small steps and back through the hall. 

A odd sound echoed back your direction, making you stop. A thump followed, and you heard a voice whisper quietly. There was... something off about the voice. It wasn't illegible like yours, or soft-spoken like Henry's. It was... dark. Not like the inky substance you were made of, but actually darkness. Something... not right.  

"Rest your head. It's time for bed." 

 _That definitely doesn't sound right,_ you mentally agreed with your assumption. If this thing was as bad as you thought it was, then could it hurt you? Could it attack like the other ink blobs? Without reason? Or thought? Sinking down into the floor, you slithered towards the corner to the right, and almost gave yourself away in shock. An ink creature, just like yourself but with legs. Legs! and clothing too! It had some weird cartoon thing attached to its face, with its mouth smashed out for it to see. B-but Henry! He was lying on the ground, with his eyes in and out of focus. 

Did this thing hurt Henry? Wh-why would it do that? A building growl was smothered as fast as possible, and you shook yourself. The other creatures were mindless, and didn't show any sign of not wanting to hurt the man. But this new... creature, seemed intelligent. At least, to a point. You didn't trust it, but at the same time, it didn't immediately try to hurt Henry. Henry was just sleepy right now. The newcomer knelt down, swinging Henry's arm around its inky neck, and began to carry him towards a staircase beside the entrance where Henry came from.

Where were they going? Was it somewhere new? You checked around you one last time, before nodding in confirmation. There was nothing left here, as far as you could tell. Henry seemed to be much more exciting, and if you got a name by hanging around him, then maybe you'll get something else!  _Answers. I want answers._ Answers are a thing that you wanted desperately. Longed for. But for now, it would be best to watch and listen. 

Maintaining your puddle form, you sank through the cracks of the floor, and began to travel through the walls. Ink was certainly easy to navigate. Being able to shrink and alter your form to get to any place. Falling through a ceiling with a sickly plop, you found yourself in a corner of a room. A large stone statue of a cartoon with the same face as the ink man towered above you, hiding you from sight.  _Ink... man._ It suited the person. He was more distinguished than the other searchers, and reminded her of a human. The voice also helped build on the idea. At the same time though, his feet functioned like your body. Sliding-no-gliding across the wood with practiced ease. 

Being able to move as you could, you knew it would take a few.... minutes, to reach where you were. That is, you arrived in the right area.  _Still,_ you lifted yourself up out of the puddle, resting your arms on the floor, and putting your head on them.  _If this ink man tries to hurt Henry, I won't be nice to him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever since I've posted or updated anything over on here, but midterms are a pain and I've only now gotten time to write. The next chapter may take a while too, but this isn't forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed that while there have been many reader stories for BatIM, there haven't been many such like this. So, why not be the first!? Let me know what you think. I might continue if I have the time.


End file.
